Tower
by GlowingPlum
Summary: What if our dreams trapped spirits? Neil Gaiman influenced work, hope you all like it. um... review after reading?
1. Disclaimer

Disclaimer; this work of fiction is mine, and has been inspired by many, many authors and directors, so credit is do to all. If you want to use one of my characters, ask me! If you don't want to read about love, loss, spiritual journeys, angst, power, dreaming, life, death, pain, or any of a hundred other emotions, then this is the wrong place for you.


	2. Main Text

Tower

Chapter 1

            I can see the tree we are going to hit. It looks thicker than the compact car we've rented on our trip. The tree is huge and old. Scarred down one side where it must have been struck by lightning many years ago, its branches on that side stumps, the other green and verdant with fresh leaves. Time crawls by, so I can count every leaf as we follow our doomed trajectory. I knew what was about to happen, and I can't make myself stop it. My wife is sitting next to me, driving through the countryside to let me rest. The jolt as the car left the road woke me up. She must have fallen asleep as well, since she drives better than this. I look at her face, the face I've watched in her sleep for hours, and I know she wasn't asleep at the wheel. She knew too. We're halfway there, and she is already wrenching the wheel around in tortuous slow motion. Every detail still crystal clear still, even the reading on the speedometer, which is 50 MPH. The front wheels finally pulling us around, they pull the other side up by centrifugal force, until they are higher than the center of gravity of the damn car, and keep going higher, inertia still driving us into that tree as we begin to flip.

            Abruptly Dagaź sat up, clad in a cold sweat underneath the covers. Gulping back the bitter taste in his mouth, he reached out for the glass of water next to his hospital bed, and gulped it down swiftly. Yawning slowly, he rubs his face with tired hands, ignoring the IV line in the back of his left hand. Since we are in his story, we can hear him wonder to himself, 'Why am I still having these dreams? It's been years since she…' Even though he will not say it, he still knows that his wife, Risa, is dead. They had been married only a few months before they went on their late honeymoon, and before that, they had known each other for such a short time. 

            Here, and now, he is in a hospital after an injury 'on the job'. He didn't like to think that he had anything like a job, but he made money by acting as an intermediary, selling and buying for people who didn't like handling such themselves. Though avoiding illegal goods by preference, he had seen the supplies for more than one revolt pass by. He was really a jack-of-all trades, dabbling in anything that caught his fancy. It seems that is how he met Risa, all those years ago, by getting talked into sneaking drugs into a party in a rural area. At any rate, she was pretty. So much so, that when she approached him, he was dumbstruck that she was talking to _him. _After he got over that, he found her very easy to talk to. Even if she would chatter his ear off, he liked it and the sound of her voice. 

            We know his dream have been troubled, as evidenced, but is there another reason besides the natural? We'll see, since tonight is a magical night, powered by the waxing half moon. After signing himself out of the hospital, and promising to return for his physical therapy, he returns to his dingy apartment, crowded with knickknacks and memories. Memories of good times with Risa, he has them catalogued; the first night they met, represented by a poster for the party. The many, many dates they went on, he still wonders why he has it, and why he can't let it go. His proposal, the night he opened himself to her. Their wedding, wasn't it great? Well, the weather wasn't cooperating, but that just made it more fun, to run through the rain, laughing with her. Turning in the hallway to close the door, he opens the bedroom door, which smells musty from the rains that have occurred while he was away. Where-upon he falls onto the bed, and looks through the mail that has collected in his absence. "Bills, bills, advertisement, bill, 'Have you seen me?' Kid, I haven't seen myself in a long time… What's this?" surprised, he drops the stack of mail to be forgotten on the floor, and looks at a postcard picture of a castle. There are three towers, each a different height, in gray stone and mortar. "I... know this place." Flipping the card over, he reads the short message on the back:

Hi baby, I know this is kind of weird, but I want you to start living again, like you did while I was alive.  I now know we did share our hearts & souls, but you have your soul back, since mine has parted from your world. Let go of me. Live.

            He stares at the card for an hour, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. He can tell that his wife wrote it, but he saw her end. Until now, he has not been able to believe in life after death, and is only beginning to think about changing that belief. He already checked for a return address, but found nothing. Snapping out of it in time, he proceeds to finish his daily chores. First, taking off his heavy clothes and putting them away, then putting the dishes that have been sitting in the sink into the dishwasher, before they commit to chemical warfare between each plate. When he finishes that, he cooks dinner for himself, and an alley tom that has adopted him, and puts the cat's food out on the fire escape, hoping deep down that nothing has happened to the mysterious tomcat. The tom, who's name could roughly translate as Alex, was a stocky built mix, with dense water resistant fur, a kind face which looks sad at times, and colored in shades of gray and black except where scars bleached the pigment from his fur. 

Chapter 2

            In his own time, Alex thudded down onto the fire escape behind his food, and munched loudly at the plain chicken set before him. Padding over to the window, he noses it up a little more, and slips in to check on Dag to get the scoop. Murring softly before rubbing himself on Dag's leg, he smiles his little sad smile, and waits. "Ahg! Ah.. Dang it you, you startled me. Enjoy dinner tonight? Yeah, I know I missed a lot, I was in the hospital, getting my knee fixed again." 

            "Murrr?" 

            "Yeah, I wasn't taking care of myself. I know it."

            "Mraow…"

            "Oh… I got a letter… Maybe you can get something sensible out of it…" Dagaź says, reaching over to put the postcard in front of the brick-like cat, who sniffs it carefully, incase there happens to be food on it, but the only smells he notices are Dag, the food he already ate, and something else, that curls his lips and bothers him. "You too? Well, I feel better now, even if I'm talking to myself." Breathing softly, the man sits on his bed and thinks of what he needs to do for work, and what he can use at work to demystify the card. The cat jumps up onto the bed with a murmur of discomfort, and crawls into his lap to sleep. Lying back, Dag finally gives himself to sleep. 

            His dream that night starts him on a quest of his own choosing, which is more life than he had lived since Risa's death, and sparked by her letter. It went thusly, and all images are at best translations of things he has seen. Standing in a courtyard, he looks around for someone, but the court is empty except the prosecutor, hammering questions at him about his wife, and her death, which he cannot answer. There is no judge to stop the incessant assault; there is no judge to measure his life, or the lives of others. He sees his life, and knows this has been the only path that he could have lived through, all the others snuffed out by chance and his own fragility. He can see his hundreds of deaths, all lined up through coincidence and fate. He can see himself at the castle on the postcard, and finally remembers it. It was the castle that they were going to see, all those years ago. Maybe she made it to that castle? Running to the first tower, he climbs all 101 steps as advertised, and enters the turret, where he can look around the countryside. There is a cat, no it is _the_ cat, Alex he knows now, and he is sitting in the exact middle of the floor, facing the next highest tower. "She's not here?" he asks, expecting a reply he cannot understand, instead, "She wants you to let her go. To let her go." Alex responds, turning that sad face towards him. "I… I can't. She was… it. You know?" Dag tells the cryptic cat. 

            "Well," a characteristic sigh is heard from the little body, "then we have to do some traveling. Make sure to leave me room in your carryon; I hate those little kitty carriers. Give me the creeps, being locked up there alone."

            "Hunh, I don't know why that doesn't surprise me…"

            "Because this is a dream."

            "Ah." He says, at the very moment his alarm shocks him awake with its incessant blaring. Slapping it off his nightstand with a meaty hand, Dag sits up, and looks around to make himself certain that he is home. Everything is as it should be, he feels, from every memento to the gray cat sleeping in his lap. Remembering that Alex never slept in his lap before, he is surprised and pleased, and tenderly pets the sleeping tom, which wakes him up. "Murraow!" the furry sleeper complains, and swats sleepily at his hand. "Hey, someone wants to sleep in I think. But you got to get up so I can get you food." Dag carefully lifts the large cat, and puts him where he was laying, so he stays warm. Cheerfully cooking bacon and eggs for breakfast, he starts planning how to get through the day, and put his adventure into focus. By the time all the food is cooked and set on plates, he knows what he is going to do, and Alex has woken up enough to sate his appetite. "Well, grumpy head, are you willing to go on a trip with me? No family or anything that will miss you or anything?" Dag asks, as he sees the gray feline make a beeline for his morning food. Pausing a moment to lick his paw, Alex shakes his head, answering Dag's question, and surprising Dag himself. "Hunh, I would have never guessed, kitty." Lifting his head from the plate on the floor 'Kitty' says "Alex, call me Alex." Taking a moment to decide how to let that affect him, Dag nods, and says "Alex it is then." 

            "Do you know what we're doing yet?"

            "Yup. First, check by work, set them up to live without me for longer, then buy a carryon cat bag, after that, pack. Already called the airport, and the next plane to England leaves this evening. You got time to wrap up anything you need to between now and then, Alex."

            "Good, I think we can work well together Dag." 

            "Sounds good. I'll get going then, if you don't have anything else to add?"

            "Nope, see you when you're finished."

            "Okay." Dag wasn't a goodbye person before Risa died, and her death made him more so against them when they were superfluous, as now. So he just fished a coat from the hall closet, slipped into some shoes, got his keys, and locked up, leaving the window open a crack, for Alex. Being careful of his knee still, he decided to take the subway to work, which he didn't mind. It gave him time to see what people were like today, and could remind him that they were living, despite their personal pains. Today, the subway augured discomfort, and the people seemed deader than usual, just leaches hanging on to rings, which dripped with substance. Shaking his head to dispel those images for the day, he waited for his stop. The bustle on his way belied the early hour, but that was Manhattan for you. It was when he entered his workplace when he first understood the subway's message for today. His secretary, who has fallen in total lust with him, has dressed even more provocatively than the last time he was in, when it seemed that such a feat was impossible, short of her birthday suit. Stalking (there are no other descriptions of her walk) towards him with the businesses mail, she smiles easily, and hugs him tightly. "Morning Boss. Here's the mail, and a kiss for luck!" while most people would have given such a kiss on his cheek, not Marla. Hers was smack-dab on his lips, and lasted for way too long for his comfort. Stuck in her arms, Dagaź tries to sneak the mail out of her hands before she can do something with it that will further embarrass him. "Marla… You know better than that…" he weakly chides her as he slips out of her arms after her kiss. 

Chapter 3

            Other where, Alex was spending his morning giving attention to the other people who fed him, and took care of him. Greeting them with a purr, and a rub, he would then have to leave swiftly, to get to everyone in time, waving his tail as he went. Where he could, he left a little mottled gray picture of happiness, so that the people would have that final good memory of him to cherish. Finishing his rounds, he pads along the way to Dag's apartment, sticking along the shadows and drainage tunnels. Climbing up the fire escape, he crawls in, and lies down on the man's bags. Returning home, Dag looks disheveled, as if… "How was your day honey" the gray tom rumbles, smirking.  "Ah, don't bother worrying, it's just an overzealous employee." He responds, locking the door, and settling in. "Mmm, yeah, I heard that they're a big problem this time of year." In reply, Dag tosses a towel at the furry lump on his suitcase, upsetting the prone bag, and flipping the cat off. "That's not even funny Alex. I've never seen you being chased by a girl before, so what would you know?" 

            "Eh, True enough, I don't let you see me being chased. I've not seen you with a girl in a long time either. Why do you want to do this anyway?"

            Pausing, Dag gets up and lights the stove "Okay, fair enough. Dinner?"

            "That's not an answer."

            "I know." The man says, smiling softly as he sets a plate down for his companion. They stay quiet while they eat, and up until they reach the airport. "You should think about why you need to see her." Are the first words spoken to end the silence, and Dag nods slightly, agreeing with the cat.

            "I know. I… didn't fall in love with Risa. It was deeper than that. We could be locked away from each other, and we would still know exactly how to get to the other person's side. I still don't know how I lived before, and I'm amazed I'm living now, or not, as the letter supposes." 

            "Deep my friend… yeah, we're comrade's now, aren't we?"

            "Yup. Especially if you get into the cat bag I bought for you, cause we're here."

            "Oh crud. Already?! Okay…"

            After being filtered through check-in, having his bags x-rayed which included Alex, who seems to have a penny holding for a delayed final approach, and seated on the plane, Dag made himself comfortable. During the flight he dreamed, and Dreamed. A dream of his was his winnings of the lottery spread to make a floor covering for his ten-acre house, even though he never played the lottery in waking. A Dream of his had three towers. He is standing in the second highest tower, Alex is sitting next to him, and a small woman is crouched over a loom, yet the woman sharpening a pair of shears against a grindstone is just as much her as is the third woman who is weaving the threads from her sister/self into a bolt of cloth. 

            "Greetings quest-bearer," she/they declare, "we are the Three-in-one, the Norns."

Chapter 4

            "Yes? What am I doing here again?"

            "Three questions you can ask, three answers we will give. Yes, we are as we say, and you as are you think. This is your quest. The castle is built by you so you can find it."

            "This is my fight-for-life? My final chance to stop existing I mean. The end of my suffering?"

            "Yes it is your final chance. But that was your last question." With that, they snap their fingers at once, and he is awake in time to hear the captain announce their arrival in London. Sitting up, and looking at Alex, underneath the seat in front of him, Dag shakes his head, and sighs. "I hear getting anything out of those three is a pain in the-" "Can I have you raise your seat sir?" the attendant asks, smiling of course.

            "Of course." Dag suits actions to words, and waits for the young woman to continue past to talk to the cat. "I can see why. I don't know if there were more answers in what they said or questions." After the plane lands, the questing man lets everyone go past him, and disembarks last. Somehow disappointed by the airportness of his surroundings, he chides himself for foolish hopes, and drags his carry-on by the wheels, and follows the signs for taxi's, rental cars, trams, and car park. Suddenly, a woman steps out from a line, directly into his way, timed so he cannot get out of the way. "Ack, do excuse me. You alright miss?" Dag mutters as he helps her up. 

            "It's okay, I was going pretty fast." An American voice, blond hair, suitcase shaped like a guitar. 

            "Are you a musician?" Dag asks, gesturing to her case.

            "Yeah, I sing in a band, with some friends. This is one of my band member's cases. Kev's following up with most everything else." She says, looking over the crowd. "He's my bassist. Have you heard of the Torrid Pussycats?"

            "Oh, I think so. I don't get out much. That big guy, is that your bassist? Think he needs help?"

            "Nah, he never minds carrying some big stuff. Saves us money on roadies." She smiles, and puts her hand out to shake with Dagaź, which he belatedly returns "I'm Sabrina, lead singer of the Torrid Pussycats."

            "Dagaź, just call me Dag. Personal procurement."

            "Really? That sounds interesting. What is it?"

            "I buy stuff for people."

            Huffing dramatically, Kevin joins the two chatting, and smiles. "Hey, Sabrina, Making new friends already?" 

            "Yup. This is Dag, Dag, that's Kevin. And Drumkit."

            "And Mike stands. Can't be too sure 'bout the ones the show provides." Kevin chimes in. "I'd shake, but then we'd loose the bass drum."

            "Don't want that happening now, do we young man? I don't mind waiting a bit."

            Kevin nods towards the taxi stand, and starts shuffling over there, 3 stands strapped to his back in carrying cases, a large drum box in his right, and a fair sized suitcase in his left making a large swathe through the crowd. Gesturing towards the bassist, Dag lets Sabrina follow behind Kevin, while he takes up the rear. 

            "Where you going Dag? I betcha we can all fit in the cab." Kevin offers, as Sabrina flags down a taxi. "We're for the pavilion inn, down on Baker St. I think."

            "I could stay there. Yeah, why not."

            "Never make your trip plans ahead of time? Me either. I don't work that way, when I'm doing it myself. When someone else is paying, and planning, is all good."

            Packing everything into the cab, and then getting themselves in, the trio talk about innocent topics until they reach the in, where Sabrina and Kevin get there reservations, and Dag checks in with his cat. Finding a room where they could have the cat was a problem, but the procurer knew just how to smooth out a kink like that. Soon they were sitting in the inn's lounge, sipping coffee after they found their rooms, and threw their stuff in. 

            "So, Why are you two here, instead of the whole band? Taking a vacation together?" Dagaź winks.

            "Aw, no. Nothing romantic like that. Just a publicity tour. They wanted to talk to me and her, since we instigate the creative processes of the band." Kevin blushes, and shrugs.

            Sabrina smiles and nods, "We're doing interviews, checking out the stages, stuff like that. The others have deeper roots than us, right now." 

            "Ah. That makes sense. I know you're wondering, so I'll tell you why I'm here. I'm finishing a honeymoon that was cut short a long time ago."

            Both change from bubbly to chagrined in seconds, and Sabrina offers her condolences. Kevin suggests that things happen in ways that are painful and good. 

            "Well, thank you both, and its nothing to be upset about. Not anymore. Time heals all, eh?" Dag suggests.

            "Nope. Time is simply the strung together moments of our life. It doesn't fix anything on its own. People fix stuff."

            "Ohm, that's, yeah. Yeah. That's right. You could say that I'm trying to fix myself then."

            "Best of luck. I still don't know where the pieces of my mind went."

            "Yeah, you are going to get something together, I think Dag. Kevin an I can tell sometimes. Isn't that right?"

            "Yeah Sabrina, we're pretty good at it. Dag is going to work hard at it." 

            Their conversation continues, albeit slowly, and Dagaź learns that the pair are single, and write lyrics based on their angst, various numerological formulas, and hope. Dinner follows, but Dag politely demurs, and orders room service.

            "That blond is cute, yeah big guy?" Alex chirps between bites of chicken breast. 

            "You are a cat, what interests you in people?" Dag asks, holding a cheese steak in both hands.

            "Some give off good vibes to cats. It's how we know which ones are allergic. Makes it easy to piss them off."

            "Do all cats talk like you, or is this something to do with my 'quest'?"

            "We don't talk often, and we have language, but I think you're borrowing an extra bit of something, to understand me."

            "Mmm…"

            After pouring the litter in the box the hotel supplied, Dag settles in to bed, writing pad and pen in hand and thought about his day. Writing down all the details he wanted to remember, he sketched Sabrina and Kevin in words, put down the thoughts he had about them, and made a guess as to their motives. Who, what, why, when, where, and how; those sorts of things. When he finished, he lay back, and turned off the light. 

Chapter 5

            Waking up to the dawn light spilling through the window, Dag found Alex curled alongside him, nestled in the covers. "Hey sleepyhead" Dag expressed, throwing aside sleep as easily as the blanket. Uttering a disgruntled murf, Alex opened one eye and looked at Dag. "No… not waking time." The gray cat growled at the cheerful Dag. "I'll make some more of those eggs you liked. That'll getcha going, you fur ball." Dag says as he gets up. Walking to the kitchen, he picks up a change of clothes, and starts the gas stove.

            "You don't wake up to easy, do you?"

            "No… How'd you guess?" the cat dribbles sarcasm. "I'm going to get fat if you keep feeding me like this." 

            Dag looks at the paunch hanging from the gray belly, and chuckles. Their morning antics are routine now, and comforting. Despite their location, working together, they feel at home. Dag calls down to the front desk to connect a rental car after breakfast, and Alex sits on the small bureau screwed into the wall. After that, he packs a few things into a bag, and takes Alex to the hotel's lounge, to get a nip of coffee before he goes. 

            On the drive there, Dag asks "Why did I bring you with me Alex? I don't think I need you, do I?"

            His questions target, Alex, sheds as Dag manhandles through the narrow streets, claws dug into the tan fabric of the passenger seat. 

            "Wait… Should I ask something like that? Oh, I don't know what has happened to me. This is all crazy. How'd I get so far from reality?"

            Feeling a snag as Alex's claw sink into his leg, he yells indignantly and swerves wildly as he tries to swat Alex away. Sliding through a red light as the solid lanes of traffic seem to melt around the car, Dag stops worrying about Alex, and starts controlling the car. Once he manages that, he parks, and yells at the cat for a time. "Why! What are you thinking! How Dare you!" etc. 

            "Risa."

            After a long pause, "Oh" is all Dagaź could say.

Chapter 6

            Reaching the spot where they left the road, Dag parked in the emergency lane, and kneeled down at the edge of the road. 

            "Risa, I know you want me to be happy, but what is going on? This is almost too nuts to believe! A cat I can talk to, dreams like that… that's just too much for a regular guy like me. I don't do stuff like this every day. I make deals, and keep my eyes off what goes past me. I don't know what to do here. I feel like I'm going to fall apart." 

            With this said, Dag continues on to the castle they were going to visit, all those years ago. Chugging through a thin fog, he reaches it well before lunchtime, and picnics. Tossing pieces of chicken over Alex's head as a way for the fur ball to burn off some extra meals he's stored for a long time, Dag laughs as Alex flips over in a display of kittenhood and young joy. Abruptly, the fog thickens around them, cutting the sounds 'outside' their enclosure. The wind-ruffled grass gently strokes Alex's chest as he stops playing. "Mmm… Not sure that's at all good."

            "What? Did you hurt yourself? Oh, wait. I see it."

            "Remember where the castle is?"

            "I think so… Why?"

            "It feels like it is time."

             Packing up everything into the basket, Dagaź leaves it next to the tree he used as shade or rain block, it amounts to the same thing here. 

Chapter 7

            Through the coy mist, Dagaź cannot see Alex. "You know, this is damn weird, Alex. Feels like we're walking through…"

            "Dreams?"

            "Kind of. I was thinking of oatmeal though."

            The reassuring laugh of his quadruped friend clued the lumbering man closer in the right direction. When he took the last step through the fog, the appearance of solid ground jolted him badly. Taking a moment to get his breath, he asks, "What was that?" of the little cat, which is grooming the dew out of his fur.

            "Its what I told you."

            "How… never mind. I don't think I want to know. Hey, thanks for getting me through that."

            "It's not over yet."

            Pushing himself off the bone-white gates of ivory, which enter the realm of dreams and only let truth pass. Dag doesn't remember his surroundings at first, but he manages to orient himself with the towers, and leads Alex onwards. 

            "The center tower, yes? That's the one where this will be finished in, Alex?"

            "Yes Dagaź Ansuź. As your guide, you have paid me well. I wish you the best of luck on the trial you face." 

            "Trial?" Dag asks, and then turns around to see that Alex has shifted into a man, old as old can be. The man wears dusty gray clothes in an unfamiliar fashion.  "Alex?"

            "Yes… I was bound in that city until I brought someone back from the dead… Thank _You_ Dagaź for being the one."

            "What? I… Why were you stopped, and what from?"

            "Why… is a long story. What from, that's easy. I was idiot enough to make a close friend of a magus. I knew he clamed power, and had seen some of it. I told him that I would die before I could bring someone back to life, yet he would die that others could live. He helped me with that. I didn't die, but I was unable to help. My oath is now over, and I can rest my weary bones. Coming this far is impossible to anyone who holds a seed of doubt about what they are doing. You have doubt in yourself, but none in what you do. Remember that, and that this place is here because of stories." 

            "Yes Alex. I will… Good rest, and peace follow you."

            Smiling as the mist in the courtyard thickens about him, Alex waves slightly, and disappears. Echoing his parted companion's smile, Dag climbs the stairs of the third tower. 

            In the room stand three things. A cage, a man, and a desk. The cage is possibly as comfortable as something to restrict can be, but that does not impead Dagaź from feeling remorse, shock, and pain when he sees Risa inside. The man is as distant as the stars, ignoring Dagaźs intrusion into the room as he pours two glasses of what looks like wine. The desk is something Dag should remember, he thinks. Why does the sight of a desk make him feel, tiny. Like he could slip into the cracks in the mortared floor, and cower there forever. Then he is struck with a reason. "My uncle had a desk like that. He worked at a nickel a week job for 50 years while his bosses made millions. Want to know what he did for his nickel?"

            "No. However you will tell me anyway, even if I tell you I know what he did. The job of accounting must be placed in the hands of an upright citizen. He was taller than most… all politicians, and nearly everyone you knew when you were growing up. In fact, when you were six, you wanted to be just like him when you were the age you are now. What happened that made you change from his path?"        

            Dag is obviously shocked, but he wants to know the answer of himself, and so he thinks about it for a moment. "In ten years, I would know the difference between him, and his boss. He didn't bend rules. There was no room for anything less than perfect with him, and that made it impossible, 'cause I'd always try to impress him. But he could always find something I did wrong, something I overlooked in my excitement." Taking a breath, Dag steps closer, "It made me feel like I would never be good enough to be anything to him, and I hated that."

            Nodding his head softly, one of his pale thin arms flows towards Risa "She is here because you cannot stop dreaming of her. It is torture for her. I was obliged by some to give you this last chance to let her go."

            Dag frowns, and walks towards the cage. "Can I go with her?"

            "That would be up to my sister."

            "What is going to happen to me next?"

            "You would find that your office has burned down if you return to it. Natural accident, nothing me or my family planned it for you. There are uses for a man of your skills here. You could work for me."

            "What would I do?"

            "Accounting work, who gets what, where that goes, etc."

            "Yes."

            The mans face smiles, and Dag notices the brightness in his eyes _is_ the light of a sun. reaching out for the key, he finishes his quest, and unchains Risa from the cage he fashioned from memories, dreams, hopes, and fears. Once she is let go, the cage and she vanish. "That happen a lot around here?" the now unburdened soul asks. 

            "Seems to."

            As they talk the mist fades and takes the scene with it, making the lord of dreams and the man who dreamed vanish before your eyes. Now you can wake up, and remember them as if from a dream as you lay this story down. 


End file.
